Read Online A Little Friendly Advice by Siobhan Vivian - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Siobhan Vivian
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sucks, but that’s a new low.”
“Tell me about it. Thank God you came along.” He takes off his cap and brushes a hand through his messy, matted hair. It looks crazy choppy, like he cut it himself with those plastic scissors made for little kids. “I’m Charlie.”
I smile. “What? No cute button for that, Charlie?” Now this feels like flirting. I think.
There’s a garden bench against the pool house. We sit, and the motion lights slowly click off one by one, blacking out the path by which we came. My insides flutter.
“So are you going to tell me your name?”
Oh, right. “Ruby.”
“How do you know Teddy?”
The last light over our heads clicks off and blankets us in darkness. It takes a few seconds before I can make out Charlie’s shape, even though he’s sitting really close to me. “I used to live a few houses down the street.”
“Wait — so you don’t live in Akron anymore?”
I shake my head. “I do. I just moved off this block a few years ago.”
“Yeah? Why?”
I press Charlie’s HELLO button into my palm until it hurts more than the answer to his question. I turn to look back at the smokers, but my eyes are still adjusting to the dark and I can’t make out anything in the distance.
“Okay …” Charlie leans over to tie his sneaker and gives me a much needed break from his stare. “I can sense you’re skeptical. You think I’m a meathead like all these other guys. Well, let me explain why I am at this lame party.”
Charlie justifies his presence here. I concentrate extra hard on everything he says, trying to ice out the thoughts heating up in my brain. He goes to Fisher Prep with Teddy, but he doesn’t feel like he fits in there for strikingly obvious reasons. Still, a kid has to have friends. He hates Akron, but his parents moved here this summer so his dad could start a new job.
“Rubber?” I ask.
“No,” Charlie recoils at what he perceives to be an insult. “He’s an art professor at Kent State. We used to live in Pittsburgh when he taught at Carnegie-Mellon. Pittsburgh was so awesome. Home of Heinz ketchup, best ketchup in the world.”
Even in the dim light, I can tell his red cheeks are getting redder by the second, and I wonder if it’s because I keep staring. Or if it’s some kind of medical condition. Or if it’s because he likes me. I should be excited. Why am I not excited?
“Ruby,” he says.
I look down and see the glint of foil in his hands. A stick of gum. It might be Make-out Gum, the way he’s leaning toward me really slow. But I don’t want to jinx it. I’ll just take the piece, chew, and see what happens.
Only, the wind picks up and my hand freezes in midair. My eyes have finally adjusted fully to the darkness. Now I can see things in the yard around us. Teddy’s big crescent-shaped pool, a stack of plastic lounge chairs, a tall fence, and beyond that …
“Ruby, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks, pulling back from me just the littlest bit.
I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to, how the sight of my old house makes my body wind tighter and tighter until I’m convinced all my muscles and tendons and ligaments are seconds away from snapping. Most of the neighborhood looked unfamiliar during our ride to the party. Probably because I make it a point to completely avoid this side of town. But the orange treetop in the front yard is still the tallest one on the block. And it looks just like the tree I photographed this morning. Could that have been why I wanted to take that picture? The fall leaves are as electric as they were when I used to stare out my old bedroom window. I can see that window, too. The light is on, because someone else lives there now.
“Ruby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though a tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away as discreetly as I can and shift my body until Charlie’s head blocks the view of my house behind him. “Seriously,” I say. “What were we talking about?” All I can think
“Tell me about it. Thank God you came along.” He takes off his cap and brushes a hand through his messy, matted hair. It looks crazy choppy, like he cut it himself with those plastic scissors made for little kids. “I’m Charlie.”
I smile. “What? No cute button for that, Charlie?” Now this feels like flirting. I think.
There’s a garden bench against the pool house. We sit, and the motion lights slowly click off one by one, blacking out the path by which we came. My insides flutter.
“So are you going to tell me your name?”
Oh, right. “Ruby.”
“How do you know Teddy?”
The last light over our heads clicks off and blankets us in darkness. It takes a few seconds before I can make out Charlie’s shape, even though he’s sitting really close to me. “I used to live a few houses down the street.”
“Wait — so you don’t live in Akron anymore?”
I shake my head. “I do. I just moved off this block a few years ago.”
“Yeah? Why?”
I press Charlie’s HELLO button into my palm until it hurts more than the answer to his question. I turn to look back at the smokers, but my eyes are still adjusting to the dark and I can’t make out anything in the distance.
“Okay …” Charlie leans over to tie his sneaker and gives me a much needed break from his stare. “I can sense you’re skeptical. You think I’m a meathead like all these other guys. Well, let me explain why I am at this lame party.”
Charlie justifies his presence here. I concentrate extra hard on everything he says, trying to ice out the thoughts heating up in my brain. He goes to Fisher Prep with Teddy, but he doesn’t feel like he fits in there for strikingly obvious reasons. Still, a kid has to have friends. He hates Akron, but his parents moved here this summer so his dad could start a new job.
“Rubber?” I ask.
“No,” Charlie recoils at what he perceives to be an insult. “He’s an art professor at Kent State. We used to live in Pittsburgh when he taught at Carnegie-Mellon. Pittsburgh was so awesome. Home of Heinz ketchup, best ketchup in the world.”
Even in the dim light, I can tell his red cheeks are getting redder by the second, and I wonder if it’s because I keep staring. Or if it’s some kind of medical condition. Or if it’s because he likes me. I should be excited. Why am I not excited?
“Ruby,” he says.
I look down and see the glint of foil in his hands. A stick of gum. It might be Make-out Gum, the way he’s leaning toward me really slow. But I don’t want to jinx it. I’ll just take the piece, chew, and see what happens.
Only, the wind picks up and my hand freezes in midair. My eyes have finally adjusted fully to the darkness. Now I can see things in the yard around us. Teddy’s big crescent-shaped pool, a stack of plastic lounge chairs, a tall fence, and beyond that …
“Ruby, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks, pulling back from me just the littlest bit.
I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to, how the sight of my old house makes my body wind tighter and tighter until I’m convinced all my muscles and tendons and ligaments are seconds away from snapping. Most of the neighborhood looked unfamiliar during our ride to the party. Probably because I make it a point to completely avoid this side of town. But the orange treetop in the front yard is still the tallest one on the block. And it looks just like the tree I photographed this morning. Could that have been why I wanted to take that picture? The fall leaves are as electric as they were when I used to stare out my old bedroom window. I can see that window, too. The light is on, because someone else lives there now.
“Ruby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though a tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away as discreetly as I can and shift my body until Charlie’s head blocks the view of my house behind him. “Seriously,” I say. “What were we talking about?” All I can think
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